


You Can Hear It in the Silence

by Linsky



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fluff, M/M, also they fantasize about a threesome and I'm not really sure how to tag for that, but much obliviousness, idiots to lovers, really not much angst at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: Dylan can argue all he wants, but Alex is pretty sure it will work.





	You Can Hear It in the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story as a break from angst. If you’ve read Race Like Falcons to Crash and Burn, you probably understand why. :D There’s definitely a potential version of this story with a LOT of angst in it, but this one is just…mostly fluff, plus some obliviousness. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, uh, the NHL trade policies are a little different in this. Obviously. :D
> 
> ([Tumble with me](https://linskywords.tumblr.com)!)

It’s a solid idea. Dylan can argue all he wants, but Alex is pretty sure it will work.

“But, like, what if they find out,” Dylan says over the phone.

“How would they find out?” Alex says.

“We might slip up,” Dylan says. “I don’t want this to mess shit up.”

“I think as long as they don’t find out right away,” Alex says. “Like, are they really gonna send you down after a few months with the Hawks? They’ll want to keep you.”

“No, that’s not what I—” Dylan sounds frustrated. “Obviously it’ll mess shit up for me. That’s, like, a given. I just, you know. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I won’t,” Alex says. He’s, like, seventy percent sure of that. Even if he does, though, it’ll be worth it. Dylan’s been…it hasn’t been good, when they’ve talked over the last year. And Alex _knows_ Dylan’s play. Whatever he’s doing in Arizona is not his normal play.

“I just don’t want you to have to go through shit for me,” Dylan says, and see, it’s that tone of voice. That one that makes Dylan sound small and sad and not like the guy Alex knows from Juniors. This is why he needs to get out of Arizona.

Plus, it’s not like they’re talking about torture here.

“Yeah, yeah, my life is full of endless suffering,” Alex says. “Are you going to marry me or not?”

Dylan sends him an email a few minutes later: a copy of his plane ticket to Michigan in late August. Alex grins and enters it into his calendar.

A few weeks from now, they’ll be getting married.

***

Of course, it’s not quite as simple as that.

“Married,” Alex repeats to his parents, who are blinking at him across the kitchen table.

“But…you said you didn’t have a girlfriend?” his mom asks.

“Um,” Alex says. Yeah, this might be easier if he hadn’t just told his parents he was single. And if his parents didn’t know about all the girls he’s dated since he was fourteen. Who would have known that one day he’d want to fake-marry his teammate for trade purposes? “A boyfriend, actually.”

They don’t actually seem all that much more surprised about that than they were about the marriage in general. But then, they might have hit max surprise already.

He sneaks away from his parents’ bewildered silence to call his agent, who is just as shocked but gets over it faster. “I don’t see why you can’t,” he finally says, when Alex has asked him three times about invoking the partnership clause. “But you realize that neither team has an obligation to take you.”

“But they’d have to take the pair of us, right?” Alex says.

“They couldn’t keep either of you alone,” his agent says. “But if they both decline—well, free agency isn’t a great option at your stage in your career. You might end up separated and in worse positions than you’re in now.”

“We’ll risk it,” Alex says. He doesn’t think—he doesn’t _think_ Chicago would pass up the chance to keep him. But they have to try regardless. Dylan couldn’t really end up in a worse position than he’s in now.

“Okay then. Let me know when it’s done,” his agent says, and then there’s nothing left to do but get married.

Dylan arrives on a Tuesday afternoon when Alex’s parents are at work. Alex drives to the airport to pick him up. Dylan looks kind of pale standing there in the arrival lane, like maybe he hasn’t been getting as much sun this summer as he normally does, but he perks up when he sees Alex.

Alex hasn’t seen him in more than six months. “I forgot how fucking tall you are,” he says as he leans up to hug him hello.

“Awkward for the wedding photos,” Dylan says.

“Nah, we’ll just put you behind me,” Alex says. “Prom pose.” He puts Dylan’s hands on his waist, and Dylan laughs.

“So did your parents freak?” Dylan asks as they get into the car.

“They haven’t blinked in like two weeks,” Alex says. “But they’re okay. Yours?”

“They wanted to come,” Dylan says.

“Oh God,” Alex says as he pulls out into traffic.

“Yeah, I told them we didn’t want to make a big thing out of it.” Dylan’s fidgeting a little in the passenger seat. Alex can see it out of the corner of his eye. “But, uh.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks when he doesn’t go on.

“Are we really doing this?” Dylan asks.

“Yes,” Alex says right away. “I mean…we are, right? That’s why you came out here.”

“Yeah,” Dylan says. He sounds shifty. “I just though, you know. If you didn’t want to go through with it. We could just hang out for a week, you know, train and shit.”

“I mean—” Alex doesn’t say anything for a minute while he focuses on changing lanes. “Yeah. I want to. But we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I,” Dylan says. “I do. It was just, um. I’m in. If you’re in.”

“I’m in,” Alex says firmly, and he can see Dylan smiling out of the corner of his eye.

***

“So, uh,” Alex says when they get to his house. “We have a guest room. But I’m pretty sure my parents expect you to sleep with me.”

“Oh,” Dylan says. “Oh yeah. That makes sense.”

“I know it’s kind of weird,” Alex says. “We could always tell my parents we don’t want to sleep together until—I mean, we’re not married yet, so—”

“No,” Dylan says. “We’ll have to sleep together after we’re married, right? Like, in Chicago.”

“True,” Alex says. It’s weird hearing him say that, _Chicago,_ like a thing that’s maybe probably going to happen. Weird but nice.

Alex sits on the edge of his bed and watches Dylan settle his suitcase in a corner and fumble around inside it for his toiletry bag. He wonders how Dylan’s feeling about it. Maybe he should, like, ask again? What if Dylan doesn’t really want to do this?

“I, um,” Dylan says. He’s still bent over his suitcase, digging around for something. “I got us something.”

“Yeah?” Alex says.

“Here.” Dylan knee-walks over to Alex. There’s a little box in his hand. He opens it, and Alex catches a gleam of gold inside: wedding bands.

His face breaks into a smile. He looks up at Dylan, and there’s a smile tugging at his mouth, too. “Shit,” Alex says.

“It’s, uh, probably the wrong size,” Dylan says. “I didn’t really check or anything—”

“No, they’re great,” Alex says. “I didn’t even think of that. Dude,” he says, and punches Dylan in the arm lightly.

Dylan sways with the punch and smiles more, ducking his head. “Sorry I didn’t check.”

“No, it’s more fun this way.” Alex takes the box and runs his fingers over the gold. He’s never really had, like, jewelry. That’s probably why he didn’t think of the rings, even though he should have.

“Here, let’s see,” Dylan says, pulling one of the rings out of its black velvet. He takes Alex’s left hand and slides the ring onto his third finger—and, like. Wow. Obviously that was a thing that was going to happen, when they got married, but it’s still super weird to see. Dylan, sliding a wedding ring onto his finger.

It fits. It’s a little big, maybe, but close enough that he can wear it for the ceremony.

They’re both silent for a moment, looking at Alex’s hand with the ring on it. “It’s good,” Dylan says.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Alex says. He feels laughter flickering in the air between them—and then they give into it, giggling as Alex pulls the ring off and puts it back into the box.

“Still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dylan says, through his giggles.

“We’re gonna, though,” Alex says. It feels more real now that the two of them here here together. It’ll be like Juniors, when there wasn’t anything too hard for them to accomplish when they were both there. Alex just needs to get Dylan to Chicago, needs to get them together in the same place, and there’s nothing they won’t be able to do.

***

Alex’s parents make small talk with Dylan over dinner. It’s…awkward. Everyone’s fishing around for topics that aren’t “So last season really sucked for you” and “So, marrying our son this week?”

Until after dinner, that is, when his dad pulls Alex aside. “Are you sure the two of you want to do it this way?” he says. “Your mom and I were thinking—if you wanted to wait a bit, we could help you organize something—”

It’s actually kind of nice, once Alex realizes what he’s offering. He thought his dad was going to try harder to talk him out of it. “No, we don’t want to make a big deal out of stuff,” Alex says. “We already went to the courthouse today and got the license.”

It was pretty uneventful: a bored clerk stared for a while at Dylan’s passport and the pile of NHL-related visa paperwork he brought with him, and then stamped some forms and made them pay twenty bucks. Not too exciting, except for how now they have a piece of paper that says that three days from now they can get married.

His dad blinks at him. “So—so you’re really going through with this.”

“Yeah, we are,” Alex says. And then, because his dad still looks kind of nonplussed, “But, you know. We could always do something to celebrate later. When we’re not preparing for the season.”

He hopes his dad doesn’t hold him to that. That seems like it would be shitty thing to spring on Dylan.

They all watch a movie together after dinner. Alex has a weird moment where he’s about to sit down next to Dylan on the couch and he realizes they can’t just sit next to each other like friends. He meets Dylan’s eye, and Dylan twitches an eyebrow: he’s realized it, too.

Alex sits down, feeling awkward. But they’re used to reading each other’s positions on the ice. On the ice, but still, this isn’t that different. Dylan shifts a little so he’s angled toward Alex, his arm over the back of the couch, and then Alex leans back against his chest, and Dylan brings his arm down and wraps it around Alex’s waist. Alex relaxes. This feels—good. Natural. Like something his parents will look at and think they do this all the time.

He does feel a little exposed, knowing his parents are looking. But it’s hard to feel too exposed with Dylan’s arm around him like this. Plus it’s really soothing, Dylan’s chest rising and falling against his back, and his parents picked an old movie that’s kind of dull, and—yeah, Alex is gonna maintain that Dylan falls asleep first, but by the end of the movie they’re both out.

He wakes up really comfortable and warm to the sound of his parents getting up and turning the movie off, talking in soft voices. They’ve covered him and Dylan with a blanket, and both Dylan’s arms are around him now, and is he really supposed to get up from this?

He does eventually, Dylan stumbling sleepily after him on the way upstairs. It actually kind of helps: it’s hard to feel weird about going to bed together when they’re this groggy. Alex was kind of worried about it, but Dylan just slouches against the bathroom counter and brushes his teeth, smiling drowsily at Alex, and when they go to bed it feels natural for Dylan to throw an arm over Alex’s chest and curl in along his side.

Thank fuck it doesn’t feel weird to touch that much, because Alex’s bed isn’t that big. Dylan’s hair is brushing his face a little, and Alex leans his cheek against it and falls asleep under the weight of Dylan’s arm over his chest.

***

The next few days are pretty chill. They don’t have much to do except wait for their marriage license to be valid, so they work out a ton. Dylan makes fun of how much Alex can bench press, and Alex points out that relative to their body weight he’s actually way stronger than Dylan is. Dylan says that doesn’t count, and also that Alex’s math is wrong, and neither of them is sure so instead Alex challenges him to a round of Chel instead.

And wins. Ha.

It’s really nice, is the point. They haven’t hung out like this since Juniors, and Alex has other guys he hangs out with, but it’s not the same. There’s something different about having a person you live with who’s also your teammate, someone who’s around so much that you’re totally used to each other and hanging out is like being alone only better. Alex forgot how good that could be.

“If we pull this off,” he says one afternoon when they’ve already done their workout and they’re lying on the couch debating what to watch next, “we can do this all the time,” and Dylan smiles and says, “Yeah,” all happy.

Alex’s parents seem to get a little less weird about it. Andrew is still sending him texts with a lot of question marks and exclamation points, but his parents are, like, making normal conversation. Which is a relief: Alex didn’t invite Dylan here so his parents could make him uncomfortable for five days.

It turns out the topic hasn’t been dropped, though. Alex’s mom corners him in the kitchen on Thursday before dinner, the night before their marriage license is valid. “Hey, honey,” she says. “I know you and Dylan don’t want to make a big deal out of this marriage—”

“Yeah,” Alex says quickly. Shit; Dylan is upstairs, but he could come down any minute. Alex doesn’t want him to have to be part of this discussion. “We really don’t—”

“But it is a big deal,” his mom says. Alex bites his lip and draws breath, but his mom holds up a hand. “I’m not saying you can’t do this the way you want to. You’re both adults, and we’ll respect your decisions. But your father and I would really like to be there, if you’re all right with it.”

Alex—Alex can’t actually think of a reason to say no. But it’s not like they’ll be able to tell there’s anything fake about it if they’re there. “We don’t really want to wait, though. I mean, the license is valid for like thirty days, but there’ll be more people there on the weekend, and—”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I think we can both take a day off of work to see our son get married.”

“Oh,” he says. Then, “Yeah, okay. I mean, I’ll run it by Dylan, but—sure, that would maybe be okay.”

Dylan doesn’t have a problem with it. “You’re sure they won’t be weird?” he asks.

“I mean, they’re parents,” Alex says, but actually he doesn’t think they will be. But it does feel weird to think about them being there. It makes everything feel a little more real.

Alex gets more and more keyed up as the evening goes on and brings them closer to tomorrow. Dylan seems like maybe he is, too: their game of Monopoly with Alex’s parents gets a little heated. Alex knows it’s only a game, but also Dylan keeps being wrong about stuff.

At one point they’ve been debating a die roll for like five minutes straight—not fighting, thank you, they are having a perfectly civilized discussion—and Alex catches sight of this little smile on his mom’s face, like she’s entertained but trying not to let them see. It distracts Alex enough for Dylan to grab the die and roll again, but Alex can live with that. He’s winning, anyway.

They go up to bed a while later, Dylan curling around him the way they’ve been doing the past couple of nights. It already feels familiar, the two of them not separating to sleep, settling into a space together. Alex is comfortable but still kind of hyper; he can’t imagine actually drifting off anytime soon. “Tomorrow,” Dylan whispers, “we’ll be married.”

Alex’s stomach does a slow swoop. “I still can’t believe we can just…do that.”

“We don’t have to,” Dylan says.

“Dude,” Alex says.

“I mean,” Dylan says, “it’ll probably make things complicated for you, and—”

Alex puts a hand on Dylan’s arm, the one that’s around his chest, as if Dylan’s about to take it away. Then he feels kind of dumb, but oh well. “It was my idea,” he says. “Stop thinking I’m going to change my mind. I’m not. I’m going to marry you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Dylan says, like maybe he actually believes it. Like that settles something for him.

Alex holds onto his arm and listens to the sound of both of them breathing, awake and anticipating. His last thought before sleep finally creeps over him is: Tomorrow. It’s happening tomorrow.

***

The next morning is kind of a blur. They go for a run, which helps with the antsiness, and then they shower, and they each put on one of their game day suits. “I feel like we should be going to the rink,” Dylan says.

“Oh hey, do you have the rings?” Alex asks, and Dylan pats the pocket of his suit coat. Alex puts his hand in Dylan’s pocket—he kind of just wants to feel that they’re there—and then his mom comes out of his parents’ room, and Alex has a momentary impulse to jerk away before he remembers that he’s supposed to be doing stuff like this.

He doesn’t want to weird Dylan out, though, so he does take his hand out of his pocket a minute later. “Ready to go?”

It turns out to be a good thing his parents are there, because Alex and Dylan forget about the thing where they need witnesses. Even if it is kind of weird to have his parents there at city hall with them. “Can we take a picture?” his mom asks while they’re waiting.

“Mom,” Alex groans, but she makes them get up and stand close.

“Come on, I know you two can do better than that,” his mom says. “Lean your heads together, yeah, like—oh, Dylan, can you—” and Alex starts giggling, because Dylan is tall enough that his head is basically just on top of Alex’s. Then they’re both giggling, and Dylan ends up standing behind him with his chin on top of Alex’s head and his arms around Alex’s waist, and Alex leans back against him and smiles for the camera.

After that it’s easier to just keep touching each other. It’s what’s expected of them, and anyway it’s reassuring. They go back to the weird backless furniture they have in the atrium of city hall, and Dylan sits down kind of behind Alex with one arm still around his waist, and Alex takes hold of the hand Dylan’s got on his stomach, and if they’re squeezing a little too tight no one else needs to know that.

They’re getting married. Alex keeps running up against the idea, over and over again.

It feels like hours before their number is called, even though it’s probably only forty-five minutes or so, and then the four of them are walking into one of the courtrooms and Alex’s lungs feel way too crowded in his chest.

Would it be weird for him to take Dylan’s hand? Probably not, right? But he’s second-guessing himself now, so he doesn’t, just walks next to Dylan and focuses on the justice of the peace in front of them.

There’s some discussion once they get to the room they’re using. Their paperwork has to be examined again. Dylan and Alex end up standing close together while the justice read through the forms, and their hands find each other and it’s better. This is kind of—this is super crazy, and Alex is glad that Dylan is here for it.

Then the official-looking woman is positioning them across from each other, in front of her, and their joined hands get stretched between them. “Should we, uh,” Dylan asks, his fingers tight on Alex’s, but he doesn’t let go.

“You can hold each other’s hands,” she says, and Alex takes his other hand, so both their arms are stretched between them. Alex can see his parents out of the corner of his eye. He looks at Dylan, and Dylan looks away, and then back, and then they’re both biting back grins at how ridiculous they are and the justice of the peace is starting the ceremony.

It’s hard to take in what she’s saying. They’re standing inside city hall and Alex is holding Dylan’s hands and they’re about to promise to spend the rest of their lives together and…and it’s just a lot. Alex has known for a while that they were doing this; he just didn’t know it would feel like so _much._

The officiant says some stuff about the importance of marriage, and what it stands for and whatever, and then she’s saying, “Do you, Alex, in the presence of these witnesses, take Dylan, to be your lawfully wedded husband,” and there’s some more stuff about richer and poorer and sickness and health and then she’s silent and it’s his turn. Alex clears his throat and says, “I do.”

The words feel like these huge things coming out of him. It doesn’t usually feel like doing something, saying words. Like, maybe if you’re answering an important question or something, and people are waiting to hear what you’re going to say, but already everyone knew what he was going to say just now and he still feels like he did something really enormous. Changed something. Made something happen. Just by saying two words.

He expected to be able to relax after he said them. But then his turn is over and the justice turns to Dylan and Alex is suddenly more nervous than before. Not really scared or anything—he knows what Dylan’s going to say—but it occurs to him suddenly that Dylan doesn’t _have_ to say it. And yeah, they agreed, he knows Dylan’s gonna do it, he just…he wants to hear it.

Dylan’s eyes are on Alex during the whole “to have and to hold” bit. They’re a little wide, like maybe he’s nervous about it, too. Then the justice falls silent, and Dylan looks at Alex, and he says it. “I do”—the words that make them married.

Then he’s grinning, and Alex is grinning, and—they did it. They’re married.

“Married,” Dylan whispers to him on the way out of the courthouse, and Alex giggles. He keeps running his thumb over the gold band on his finger, the one Dylan slid on at the end of the ceremony. Keeps catching sight of the matching band on Dylan’s hand. Can’t quite wrap his head around it.

Alex’s parents insist on taking them out for dinner after. “We need to celebrate,” his dad says, and Alex thinks about waving him off, telling him they don’t need to make a big deal out of it. But actually he’s kind of on board with it. Things _do_ feel different: he keeps looking at Dylan and thinking, they really belong to each other, now. Nothing can come between them. They did that, just by saying a few words. It feels like magic.

Dylan seems happy, too: they’re both kind of giddy, both trying to give each other the last roll. Then their entrees come and Dylan gives Alex half his lasagna and takes half his salmon and they probably would have done that before but it’s different now. All the food kind of belongs to both of them now. Because they’re married.

Alex gets sleepy near the end of the meal—it’s been an intense day—and he rests his head on Dylan’s shoulder while they wait for the check. That’s also something they’ve done a lot before, mostly on the endless bus rides in Juniors, but Alex’s parents get all coo-y and take pictures of them. Alex doesn’t mind. They can have some photos of the day they got married.

Married. Alex squeezes Dylan’s hand under the table.

Alex’s mom gets a little teary when she hugs him good night before they all go up to bed. She does that a lot: he’s pretty sure she was crying during the wedding ceremony, too. “I’m so happy for you,” she says, and sounds like she means it.

Alex is glad. He’s happy for him, too. He grins over at Dylan, who’s waiting for him by the stairs.

It feels different climbing into bed with Dylan now. It _isn’t_ really different—they still curl up together just the same—but there’s new knowledge underlying it. Dylan is his now. Alex is Dylan’s.

“I’m really happy,” Dylan says, murmurs in the vicinity of Alex’s shoulder, and Alex hums and tightens his arm around him.

“Me too,” he says, and means it. He’s been happy a lot before: winning the Cup, getting awards, getting his housing letter from Chicago, but this is different. This is something he gets to hold onto, a feeling that’s going to go on and on and on, because they’re married now.

***

Of course, Dylan has to go back to Toronto pretty soon after that, which sucks, especially when neither of them is sure how soon they’ll end up in the same place again. “But your agent thinks it will work?” Dylan asks on that last morning.

“Yeah, he has the paperwork and everything. He’s opening negotiations with the teams this week,” Alex says. His and Dylan’s agents are both planning to fly out to Chicago soon. But Alex’s agent warned him not to expect anything too soon: this kind of negotiation can take a while. “It probably won’t be before the start of the season, though.”

“Guess I should go home get ready for training camp, then,” Dylan says. “And, uh. Apologize to my parents for not letting them come.”

Alex laughs. It felt it like it made a lot of sense not to invite Dylan’s parents, back when they were first talking about it—but he feels kind of guilty now. “You sure you don’t want me to come back with you? Help apologize?”

Dylan looks torn. He’s holding Alex’s hand—both of their left hands, which is kind of weird, but they’ve been doing it a lot in the couple of days since the wedding. It’s just really fun to feel their rings clink together. “Nah, I should stick it out alone,” he says. “Your family isn’t going to get to see you that much during the season. And, you know. Hopefully I will.”

“You definitely will,” Alex says. He refuses to believe there isn’t a team in the league that would be willing to take both of them, at the cost of their entry-level salaries. Hopefully that team will be Chicago, but even if it’s not. They’re not going to be apart.

Like, maybe never again. He’s still getting used to that.

Alex gives Dylan a really long hug before Dylan goes into the terminal. They shouldn’t be too obvious in public if they don’t want the story to leak—that wouldn’t help with the negotiations—but it’s just a hug. And Alex isn’t going to see him for a while.

It does make it better, though, knowing. Dylan might be walking away now, but he’s still Alex’s, and Alex is still his. It’s, like, friends to the next level. Alex watches Dylan disappear through the airport doors and thinks about that and it makes him feel warm and happy all the way through.

It’s a good thing, this marriage thing. He doesn’t know why everyone doesn’t do this.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Alex does kind of wish he’d gone home with Dylan, at least for a bit. It’s weird not to have him around. And it’s weird that it’s weird, because they spent the whole rest of the summer apart before Dylan came to Michigan—but maybe it’s knowing that they’re married. Alex feels like he _should_ be seeing him, and so it’s annoying that he isn’t around.

“They just need to, like, invent transporters or something,” he says when he’s talking to Dylan. They’ve been talking pretty much every day.

“Is that a Star Trek thing?” Dylan asks.

“Yes, duh,” Alex says. “You’re so dumb, I can’t believe I married you.”

“No backsies,” Dylan says sleepily. He’s probably stretched out across his bed, like he used to do in Juniors as soon as they came home from practice. He’s so dumb. Alex is so glad he married him.

There’s not a lot of news from Alex’s agent. “I’ll tell you when I know anything,” is what he keeps telling Alex, so Alex doesn’t bug him too often. He’s not worried, really. It’ll work out.

There’s still no news by the third week of September, so Alex and Dylan go to their respective training camps. It’s what they were expecting—but Alex can hear the tension growing in Dylan’s voice as camp gets closer.

“Play good, but not so good that Arizona wants to keep you,” Alex says to Dylan the night before their flights.

“Excuse you, I always play good,” Dylan says, an edge in his voice that reminds Alex why they’re doing this thing: because Dylan does always play good. It’s not his fault that Arizona is a cesspool of suck that doesn’t know what to do with him. But Dylan doesn’t quite believe that, and he needs to get out of there before he stops believing it at all.

“I wish you were coming with me this weekend,” Alex says.

“Me too,” Dylan says. Then, quieter, “I wish you were here right now.”

They were doing pretty well at not saying that to each other for a while there, but they’ve gotten worse at it this week. Alex is especially feeling it tonight. He knows Dylan will be tense, and that he’ll take a long time to fall asleep, and he thinks—he’s not sure, but he _thinks_ it would be better if Alex were there. Sleeping in the same bed was—yeah. Alex hasn’t had a lot of chances to do that with someone in his life, not night after night with someone he cares about, and he liked it a lot. He’s looking forward to going back to that.

“Me too,” he says, all he can do for now.

***

Alex takes his wedding ring off before camp. He feels kind of weird about doing it, but also it’s just good sense. Management knows, but the players don’t, and it’s probably smart to keep it that way for a while. He puts the ring on a chain around his neck, and sends a snap to Dylan so he knows. He’s kind of worried Dylan will think Alex is being disloyal or anything, but Dylan just sends back, _good idea_ —because, yeah, it _is_ a good idea. Even if Alex does miss wearing his ring.

He takes to wearing it around his condo instead, so that he feels like he’s still married. “It’s just weird not to,” he explains to Dylan when they’re facetiming.

Dylan is grinning. He’s ducking his head so it’s hard to see, but Alex can tell. “Just don’t forget to take it off,” Dylan says.

“I won’t,” Alex says. Obviously.

He forgets about a week and a half in. “Holy _shit,_ ” Saader says before one of their preseason practices. “Did you—Cat, did you get married?”

Oh. Oh, shit.

Across the room, Tazer drops his roll of stick tape. Alex’s eyes dart over to him, and Tazer has this look on his face, eyes wide and lips pressed together.

“Uh,” Alex says. “Uh. No?”

“Who would the Cat be marrying?” Kahun asks.

“I obviously haven’t married anyone,” Alex says.

“So why do you have a ring on your ring finger?” Saader asks.

Dylan is so going to kill him. “It’s, uh, a family heirloom,” Alex says, but he makes the mistake of looking over at Tazer, who couldn’t have _I know the truth_ written more plainly on his face if he tried, and Saader follows his gaze and his jaw drops.

“It’s true!” he says. “Oh my God, I knew it!”

“How could you know it? You didn’t even see the ring until just now,” Kahun points out.

“Who did the Cat marry?” Seabs asks. “And why does Tazer know and we don’t?”

Tazer’s face is red now, too. “Sorry,” he says to Alex. “Management told me, and I just—”

“You are the worst at keeping a secret,” Kaner says, exasperated, elbowing Tazer. “But seriously, who is it?” he asks Alex.

Alex groans. His face is definitely bright red at this point. “Um,” he says. “It’s maybe, kind of, Dylan Strome?”

There’s a pause, and then a whooping, as people shout, “What!” and pound Alex on the back. Alex can feel that his face is doing something really dumb, this smile that he can’t even help, but fuck it. He’s allowed.

It’s…actually kind of nice to have them know. Alex wasn’t expecting that. Dylan is still so far away, and they talk every day but it only helps so much, and having the team tease him about it makes the whole thing feel a little more real. A little more present. 

“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” Kahun says that day during practice, goggling at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex says. This part is maybe a little awkward. “Well, you know we lived together in Juniors.”

“I’ve lived with people before,” Kahun says. “Pretty sure the way you live with someone is different from me.”

Alex laughs. “Well, not all roommates are as great as Dylan.”

He does feel a little guilty about telling Dylan about what happened. “See, I told you to remember about the ring,” Dylan says over Skype, but he doesn’t sound upset. “But no, that’s cool. Are they being weird? Does it suck for you?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Alex says. “It’s, uh. Actually, I kind of like it. They keep asking about my husband.”

Dylan’s face goes shocked. “Oh my God,” he says. “Your husband. I’m your _husband._ ”

“Yeah,” Alex says, grinning. He hadn’t really been thinking of it in those terms, either. It’s just—super weird, but cool. “Are you gonna tell the guys in Arizona?”

Dylan’s face falls a little. “No,” he says. “I mean, they’re good guys, but—no.”

Fuck. Alex really needs to get him out of there.

It’s a couple of days before the start of the season when Stan calls Alex into his office. Alex is excited about it, thinking that a deal was reached and his agent just hasn’t called him yet—but Stan just wants to check in. “I’m sure you know there are some negotiations going on.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex says.

“I won’t get into any of the details with you,” Stan says. “I know you’d want your agent present for that. But if you’re willing to tell me, I’d like to hear what you’ve thought about your first year in Chicago.”

Oh shit. This is probably really important. His agent would maybe want him not to say anything, but it’s not like the answer is hard. “I—really like it here,” Alex says. “You guys took a chance on me, and I feel like I got really lucky to end up on a team like this. I wouldn’t want to play anywhere else.”

It feels a little too much like a media answer. But it’s what Alex really feels, and he hopes Stan gets it: that this is where Alex and Dylan want to be. That they want Stan to fight for them.

Stan nods. “Good to know,” he says. “We would hate to lose you.”

Alex hopes that doesn’t mean there’s a good chance of that. He gets up and then hesitates in the doorway. “Uh,” he says. “Do you know how long it might take? Before there’s a decision?”

Stan’s wearing his professional face, and there’s no way to read it. “I couldn’t really say yet.”

Alex leaves the office feeling vaguely sick. What if it’s going badly? What if Arizona is being a dick about it?

He pulls out his phone, even though they’ve usually been talking in the evenings, and calls Dylan. He wants to hear his voice.

He gets lucky, and Dylan answers. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You know what really sucks?” Alex says. “The thing where you’re not here.”

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asks. “Did something happen?”

“No. Not really,” Alex says. “They’re just—you know. Negotiations ongoing.”

“Sucks,” Dylan says, like he really, really means it.

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I just…”

He doesn’t say it again: how much he wants Dylan to be here. It’s not gonna help. And it’s implicit in everything already: in the marriage, in the angling for the trade, in the way they’ll stay on the phone with each other long after they run out of interesting things to say, just scrolling through Instagram or playing Fortnite together or breathing quietly into the phone until they fall asleep.

It just feels worse than usual right now. Not having an end date. Not knowing.

There’s a short pause. “Soon,” Dylan says, and Alex knows he gets it. That whatever he was doing before Alex called, whatever he was feeling, in this moment he wants it just as much.

“Soon,” Alex repeats, and he knows that it’s true. One way or another, it’ll work out. Because they belong to each other now.

***

The season starts, and there’s no word on the trade. “Sorry, Arizona isn’t budging,” his agent says, and then won’t go into any detail about it. So Alex plays, and he scores, and it’s good, but nothing like how it would be if Dylan were here.

It wasn’t this hard to be apart last year. Why wasn’t it this hard last year? Alex was new, even, had just left the Otters, didn’t know anyone in Chicago yet. But he guesses he didn’t have an end date to hope for last year.

It doesn’t help that Dylan isn’t having a great time in Arizona. They’re finally keeping him up—about time—but they’re not giving him a lot of minutes, and his line doesn’t seem to be clicking very well. He looks tired a lot of a the time when Alex talks to him, like hockey is draining him instead of energizing him like it used to be in Juniors.

“When’s your husband getting here?” Kahun asks from time to time, and at first Alex loves the question, loves to hear “husband” like that, but as the weeks drag on into November and nothing’s happened, the question starts to hurt.

“You miss him?” Kaner says quietly one day when Alex has fallen behind the rest of the team at the airport.

Alex is startled to see him there. “Uh. Yeah, I do,” he says, and then bites his lip because that came out a little too honest.

“Yeah,” Kaner says, nodding and dropping a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll get better, though. You guys will be together soon.”

Alex nods. It’s just that he thought it was going to be soon a month ago.

His agent calls him in the third week of November. Alex answers fast, eager, but all his agent has for him is a question: “If it came down to the two of you going to Arizona, would you do it?”

“Uh,” Alex says. “I don’t think—I mean, Arizona has been really bad for him. For Dylan. I think we’d take basically any team in the league before them.”

“Okay, but say you had to choose between Arizona or waiving your partnership clause and both of you staying where you are,” his agent says. “What’s your call?”

Alex thinks about it. He’s never seriously imagined going to Arizona—and he can’t imagine it would be a great team for him, either. Or maybe it would okay. But he knows that he can make things work in Chicago. Leaving that for a team that hasn’t been able to make things work for the best linemate Alex has ever had—no, he doesn’t want that.

But if the alternative were leaving Dylan on the team alone… “Yeah,” Alex says. “If it’s just Dylan in Arizona or both of us, I’d take both of us. I’d go with him.”

“All right,” his agent says, in a tone finality.

“Wait,” Alex says. “Are you saying it’s—”

“Not yet,” his agent says. “Stay tuned,” and fuck. _Fuck._

He calls Dylan as soon as he gets home. He wants to tell him about the conversation with his agent, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to make Dylan worry when they still don’t know anything. And even though Alex is pretty sure it’s his prerogative to decide to go to Arizona with Dylan, he has the feeling Dylan won’t be thrilled by the idea of Alex taking that bullet for him.

“Are you okay?” Dylan says after a bit. “Usually I’m the sad one on our calls.”

Alex forces a laugh. “I’m good,” he says. “I just…” _wish I could touch you,_ is how that sentence ends in his head, but where did that come from? He’s not gonna say that. “I hope it gets wrapped up soon.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Dylan says fervently.

***

Alex is at home on a night off when Dylan calls him. That’s not weird—that happens all the time. The weird part starts when Alex says, “Hello?” and Dylan says, “Alex. Alex Alex Alex!”

They’ve traded him, along with Brendan Perlini, for Nick Schmaltz. Dylan is laughing, and Alex is laughing, and, “When? When are you coming?”

“Tonight,” Dylan says. He sounds so happy. Alex hasn’t heard him sound like this in weeks. “Fuck, it’s so crazy. We have to go to the rink and get our stuff now. Our flight is at like 6 a.m.”

“Oh my God,” Alex says. He’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. And then Dylan has to go, has to pack, has to call his parents, and Alex doesn’t want to hang up the phone yet, but it’s okay, because Dylan will be here tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Alex gets to practice early the next morning. Dylan texted him at like four in the morning when he got to the airport—Alex saw it when he woke up—and he gets the next text just as he’s pulling into the rink. _landed!!!!!!_ it says, with the plane landing emoji and confetti and the pink-cheeked smiley.

Alex grins down at it as he walks into the rink. He’s picking out emojis to send back when Tazer falls into step next to him.

“Hey,” Tazer says. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Alex follows him into a nearby equipment rooms. “Is everything okay?” Alex says, looking around at the random rental skates that line the walls.

Tazer’s standing stiffly like he does when he has team business he’s trying to be all stern about. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how serious this was.”

“Uh,” Alex says. _Yes_ seems like the right answer. “Yes?”

“No, I mean.” Tazer looks frustrated, which is slightly less intense. “Just, you know what happens when people try to game the system, right?”

“Hey,” Alex says. Not that Tazer isn’t kind of right—but also, hey.

“I’m not saying you guys are fake,” Tazer says quickly. “I just, I know the front office went through a lot of shit for this, and if, uh—I just want to look out for you guys.”

That’s kind of nice. In a roundabout way. “We really are married,” Alex says.

“I know,” Tazer says. “You’d have to be, for this to happen. I just wanted to make sure you’re planning to act like it.”

So that’s not menacing or anything. Alex feels kind of uneasy as he goes back to the locker room—but also, Dylan’s coming soon. In, like, half an hour. Screw Tazer’s warnings; he has better things to think about.

He finishes picking out emojis. Dylan deserves a lot of confetti.

He does feel a little guilty again when the rest of the team arrives. People are bummed about Schmaltzy—obviously; everyone liked him. Alex liked him, too. People are congratulating Alex about Dylan, but he knows it’s with mixed feelings.

It’s enough to make him think that maybe he should tone down the enthusiasm when Dylan actually shows up. That’s what he’s planning to do. But then Stan comes in the door with this guy Alex vaguely recognizes as Perlini and the next guy through the door is _Dylan_ and he’s _here_ and Alex might sort of run across the locker room to him.

He has the presence of mind to avoid the logo on the floor, but he jumps on Dylan and that’s ridiculous and doesn’t go too well because he’s not _that_ small and Dylan says, “Oof,” and they’re both laughing and Dylan lowers Alex to the ground and he’s _here._ Dylan is here and they’re still hugging and this would probably be better if Alex weren’t wearing hockey pads but it’s still super great.

Alex lets go after a minute. When he turns around, everyone is smiling at them—which is embarrassing but fuck it. It’s not like they didn’t know.

Dylan slips his hand into Alex’s. Alex is, like, never going to stop smiling.

They put Dylan and Pearls on the ice for practice even though they just got off the plane. Alex is glad: it’s good to be able to start playing with Dylan again. Alex didn’t get all that much sleep last night either, because he was so excited, but it doesn’t even matter when they start playing together. They’re so good at this. This is what they do.

Dylan has to fill out some paperwork and meet with some people after practice, so Alex changes and showers and waits around for him until he finally comes out of the office.

It’s just so good to see him in person, and not on a tablet screen. “So, I guess I’m yours now,” Dylan says.

“That’s right,” Alex says, and takes his hand. It’s the left one, with the ring, and Alex runs his thumb over it. “Too late to change your mind.”

Dylan ducks his head, grinning.

Dylan’s seen Alex’s condo already. But he’s never seen it as a place that’s his, too—“And I guess it is,” Dylan says while Alex shows him around the kitchen cabinets. “I mean, shared assets and all that.”

“I’m making you pay half the condo fee,” Alex says.

He’s joking, but Dylan says, “Huh, yeah. Should we maybe get, like, a joint checking account? For that stuff?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Alex says. That’s a good idea. They can go to the bank tomorrow.

He already cleared out dresser and closet space in the master bedroom. Dylan puts his clothes in there, the ones he managed to fit in his suitcases, and it’s just so—it’s Dylan’s stuff, in Alex’s place because he’s _staying_ here, and Alex kind of bounces on his toes while Dylan turns away from the dresser. “Nap with me?” Dylan asks, and yeah, that sounds good.

They fall asleep with their left hands tangled, resting on Dylan’s chest, thumbs over each other’s wedding rings. Alex hasn’t been so happy in weeks.

When they wake up he tells Dylan what Tazer said to him that morning, while they’re still curled up together, sleep-warm and cozy. “So, I don’t think we have a lot to worry about,” Alex says. “It’s not like we’re not actually married. But we probably shouldn’t let anyone find out that we aren’t also, like, dating. Or whatever.”

“Mm, okay,” Dylan says. He’s tracing his fingers over the back of Alex’s hand. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

It’s kind of nice, feeling like they’re supposed to be convincing people. Alex could maybe see scenarios where they were married but weren’t touchy in public—like, they’re working together, they’re around all these guys who have to be there, maybe they don’t want to be annoying. But they’re supposed to be convincing people that it’s real. So Alex holds Dylan’s hand, and leans against him in the locker room, and he really doesn’t hate it at all.

It helps that people are really easily convinced. Alex is a little worried after Tazer’s talk, especially about Tazer and the other As. But Dylan’s only been here like a week when Kaner sits down next to him. “See,” Kaner says, “I told Jonny he had nothing to worry about.”

“Huh?” Alex says, wrenching his gaze away from where he was watching Dylan talk to Kahun across the locker room.

“That talk he had with you,” Kaner said. “I could have told him there wasn’t any reason to worry.”

“Oh,” Alex says, feeling his face get hot. He wasn’t even—like, they haven’t even been doing much today. He feels kind of guilty that Kaner trusts them enough to believe them on so little evidence. But it means Dylan won’t get sent away, so Alex guesses he shouldn’t complain.

Dylan must be done talking to Kahun, because he’s coming back across the room. “Hey,” he says, smiling down at Alex and slipping a hand into his hair. It’s a thing he’s started doing in public, and Alex loves it: he moves his head under the touch so that Dylan scratches at his scalp. He wonders if Dylan wants to stay to work out or if they can go home soon. Alex could get behind the idea of flopping down on the couch together for a while.

“Like I said,” Kaner says, and Alex startles. He’d forgotten Kaner was there. He looks over, and Kaner drops him a wink.

“What was that about?” Dylan asks when Kaner’s gone.

“Nothing,” Alex says, and tugs on Dylan’s sweatshirt so that he stands closer and Alex can lean his head against Dylan’s hip.

There are just so many good things about marriage. Alex knew it would be great, because it’s Dylan, but he didn’t really anticipate all the _ways_ it would be good. Like, they go on a really shitty losing streak right after Dylan gets there, and it’s so much better after a bad game to have someone to put an arm around you on the plane, or on the couch at home. Even when they’re not having a bad game. Hockey means that Alex is tired every night, and having someone to curl up and fall asleep with is way better than doing it alone.

There’s also just the practical stuff, where it’s nice to have someone to split the chores and errands with. At least, that’s what Alex thinks is happening at first.

He realizes his mistake one afternoon when they don’t have anything scheduled. They’re lying around on the couch with Ralph draped over their legs when Alex says, “Ugh, there’s still a bag of sheets to put out for the laundry service.”

He means it in an _I don’t want to get up yet_ lazy complaining way, but Dylan pops up to a sitting position immediately. “Shit,” he says. “There is?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re supposed to come at three,” Alex says, nonplussed, but Dylan’s already up and walking out of the room.

“I thought I washed all of them,” Dylan’s saying when Alex catches up to him. He’s pulling the laundry hamper out of the hall closet.

“You…what?”

“Yeah, I—sorry,” Dylan says, straightening up and pushing his hair off his forehead. “I thought I got them all. I’ll have these done soon, though.”

“Why?” Alex says again. “You know I have a laundry service, right?”

“Yeah, but you also have a machine,” Dylan says, lugging the hamper down the hall.

“Yeah, for, like, emergencies.” Alex has to follow him again. “Have you been washing the rest of it? What about the laundry service?”

“I canceled the pickup,” Dylan says, stuffing the sheets into the washer.

“What? Why?”

“Well, you didn’t need them if I was going to be washing stuff,” Dylan says, like it should be obvious, but Alex knows him. This is high-key his avoiding-the-question mode.

Alex thinks back on the stuff Dylan’s been doing since he got here. It’s only been a few weeks, but Dylan’s made Alex dinner a lot. Like, way more than half the time. And he’s really tidy, putting stuff away when he’s done with it. Sometimes putting stuff away when he wasn’t the one to use it. Alex had kind of thought he’d just gotten neater over the past year or so, living in Arizona, and that maybe he liked to cook now. But maybe…

“Do you feel like you have to do shit around the house if you want to stay here?” Alex asks.

“What? No,” Dylan says, but he’s looking down at the controls of the washer while he says it. So, yeah. Definite lie.

“You don’t need to do that,” Alex says. “We have services for that shit. And even if we didn’t you should do, like, the same amount as me.”

“Yeah, but,” Dylan says immediately, and then looks mad at himself for giving that much away.

“What?” Alex asks, stepping closer.

Dylan’s kneeling by the dryer, taking out the load that was already in there. “It’s not fair,” he says.

“What?” Alex asks. “That we have a laundry service?”

“No.” Dylan looks frustrated. “It’s not fair that you’ve given me, like, literally everything. We got married for me, and I got to come here, and move into your place, and you, like, cleaned out space for me, and—”

“That was all stuff I wanted to do,” Alex says.

“Yeah, but.” Dylan shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t want it to be like I’m not giving you anything back.”

Alex laughs. “You dick,” he says, and Dylan looks up like maybe he’s gone crazy. “We’re _married._ That means we’re, like, giving everything to each other and it doesn’t matter who has what or whether it’s more.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I just want you to be here.” Alex nudges Dylan’s leg with his toes. “Like, I want us to be equal in stuff. Not for you to feel like you owe me.”

Dylan wraps a hand around Alex’s ankle. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Alex offers him a hand so he can stand up.

He opens his arms to Dylan once he’s up, and Dylan steps in and they stay like that for a few minutes. “I’m just really grateful,” Dylan says into the top of Alex’s head.

“Me too,” Alex says, and means it, entirely, completely.

***

They settle into a good rhythm after that. The team still isn’t winning all that much, but Dylan is doing better than he was in Arizona, and no one’s really questioning their marriage. Alex and Dylan make sure they keep not questioning it by being really cuddly in public. Though, actually, that’s tricky to keep track of, so they’re pretty much just cuddly all the time: it makes it easier to remember what to be like when, if they’re just like this all the time. And Alex likes it: likes Dylan’s hands brushing through his hair or touching his back, likes leaning against his chest while they watch TV, likes slipping an arm around Dylan’s waist while he cooks and feeling Dylan lean back into it.

“Yeah, it’s going really good,” he says to his mom when she calls him a few days before Christmas.

“I’m so glad,” she says. “When should we expect you two on Monday?”

It takes Alex a minute to track what she means. “Oh,” he says. “No, he’s not coming home with me. He’s going to Toronto.”

“You’re not spending Christmas together?” his mom asks.

“No, we’re going to celebrate it after,” Alex says. “We thought it wouldn’t be fair otherwise, since we get to see each other way more than we see you guys.”

His mom seems weirdly disturbed by that. Enough so that Alex starts to worry that maybe they’re doing something wrong here—that maybe people will get suspicious if they’re not together on Christmas Day. But they’re planning to celebrate on the twenty-sixth. They already talked about it. It won’t be such a big deal to be apart on the day itself.

That’s what Alex thinks, anyway. And it’s true that no one really calls them on it. But then he’s having Christmas dinner with his family and it’s great, just like it’s always been, but he keeps catching himself looking around and thinking that this _isn’t_ his family. Not all of it. He married Dylan, and that makes him family, too.

“Let’s not do that again,” he says the next day when they’re both back in Chicago and having a post-travel cuddle on the couch. “The thing where we’re apart for Christmas. It sucked.”

There’s a chance Dylan is gonna take that weirdly. But instead he says, “Thank fuck. Yeah, it was weird. I didn’t like not having you there.”

“We’re married,” Alex says. “We should spend the holidays together.”

“Mm,” Dylan says, tucking his arm more firmly around Alex’s back. “Exactly.”

Alex rests his head on Dylan’s shoulder and lets his eyes close. “You know,” he says, “we’ve been talking about people figuring it out, but there’s nothing _to_ figure out, really. Like, it isn’t any less of a marriage just because we’re not fucking. Right?”

There’s a long silence. Long enough for Alex to start to worry that Dylan really is taking it weirdly, or that maybe he fell asleep or something. Then Dylan says, “Right. Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” Alex says, and squeezes Dylan’s hand in his. So that’s okay, then.

***

The Winter Classic is New Year’s Day, so the team get shut up in a hotel for New Year’s. But the team flies out people’s families and stuff, so everyone’s wives and girlfriends and kids get to be there—not that that would have been a problem for Alex and Dylan regardless. There are babysitters and an “adult” party, where “adult” means liquor for the significant others but not the players.

“Not fair,” Alex says. “I’m _your_ husband; doesn’t that mean I should be able to drink?”

“Nope.” Dylan has his arms wrapped around him from behind and his chin resting on Alex’s head. “You’re too short to drink.”

“I object to this treatment,” Alex says. “Saader, back me up here.”

Saader briefly looks up from Alyssa, who’s been taking all his attention tonight. Alex can sympathize; it’s the new marriage thing. “Be nice to the Cat, or he won’t kiss you at midnight,” he says to Dylan.

“Yeah, exac—” Alex starts to say, and then shuts up, because oh shit that had not occurred to him.

He can feel that Dylan’s gone a little tense behind him. His arms are tight around Alex’s waist. Alex puts his hands over Dylan’s, trying to communicate how much they’ve got this.

…Well. How much he _hopes_ they’ve got this.

Midnight comes way too fast after that. The sparkling water that Tazer’s pushing on everyone instead of cider is doing nothing for the nerves.

Alex stays close to Dylan, arm hooked around his waist, and tries not to think about it. But then they’re all counting down and couples are leaning in to kiss and Alex is finding it hard to make eye contact with Dylan.

He’s not sure what he’s so nervous about. It’s just Dylan. They’re married, for fuck’s sake; this isn’t that big a deal. But they didn’t kiss as part of their wedding ceremony, which means they’ve never kissed, and somehow the idea of it feels really huge. It shouldn’t be that hard—Alex has kissed lots of people before; he knows how to do it—but this feels bigger than all those other times. More significant. It’s _Dylan._

“Should we, uh,” Dylan says, but by now the moment’s over; no one’s kissing anymore.

Maybe that’s good. Probably no one noticed anyway. Maybe that means they don’t have to—

“Hey, the newlyweds,” Seabs says. “First New Year’s. You guys definitely have to kiss.”

“Yeah, make it a good one!” says Dayna, who’s been allowed to drink alcohol this whole time and is probably nice and buzzed.

“Right,” Alex says, forcing a grin at Dylan, who’s giving him the same slightly stilted grin back. They can do this. Just lean in and—

“Come on, what’re you waiting for?” Kaner calls, and oh, fuck, everyone’s watching them now.

Well, Dayna said to make it good one. Alex slides his hand around the back of Dylan’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss.

He can feel that Dylan’s surprised. But he goes with it, putting his arm around Alex’s waist and lifting him onto his toes so they can press their mouths together.

Dylan’s mouth is surprisingly soft. Not that it should be a surprise. It doesn’t look unsoft or anything. But it still is a surprise, somehow—a surprise that tingles its way down through Alex’s stomach and thighs. He slips his tongue out to touch Dylan’s bottom lip, and Dylan tightens the arm around his waist, and, okay, yeah. This.

There are people cheering, but Alex isn’t paying attention. The tip of Dylan’s tongue is touching his and why have they not been doing this all along? It’s so fucking good that he can’t even think. The building could collapse around them right now and he wouldn’t notice anything because Dylan’s licking into his mouth now. His other hand is sliding onto the back of Alex’s neck and heat is running down Alex’s throat and pooling low in his belly.

He’s startled when Dylan takes his mouth away. He instinctively strains after it, but then he remembers where they are and lets himself slide down onto flat feet again. He’s panting, but Dylan is, too—Alex can feel it where they’re still pressed against each other.

People are clapping and whooping. Alex hides his grin in Dylan’s chest. Perks of being the shorter one.

“These guys are giving us a lot to live up to,” Alyssa says to Saader, and he takes the challenge and dips her into a kiss.

It means that attention turns from Alex and Dylan. Alex takes the opportunity to look up at Dylan. His cheeks are flushed, and so are his lips, and he’s looking down at Alex with bright, startled eyes.

Alex goes up on his toes to drop another quick kiss onto his lips. When he comes back down again Dylan’s eyes are still bright and startled but now they’re also happy. “What was that for?” Dylan asks.

“Just ’cause,” Alex says, and leans against Dylan’s chest, snuggling in so that Dylan can wrap him up in his arms.

They go up to bed not too long after that. They’ve been doing that for weeks, over a month, going up to bed together in hotels and at home. But tonight—tonight, Alex can’t quite keep his eyes off Dylan’s face. Off his mouth.

“So, this kissing thing,” he says once they’ve gotten ready for bed.

“Was that okay?” Dylan asks quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Um, _yeah._ ” Alex folds back the blanket and slides under. “It was great. I think we should do it more.”

“Really?” Dylan climbs into bed to join him. “Like—like for practice, or what?”

Alex isn’t really listening. He’s staring at Dylan’s mouth. “Sure,” he says, and then he’s sucking in air as Dylan leans closer and their lips meet.

It’s even better than it was downstairs. More breathless. Alex groans into the kiss and Dylan kisses him back slow and deep, tongues sliding together. Something thick and good and hot is filling up Alex’s stomach cavity, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. More of it with every stroke of Dylan’s tongue against his. It’s building up to a wonderful buzzy hum that runs all the way through him.

He doesn’t know how late it is when they finally separate. They’re both gasping for breath, and Alex’s whole body is tingling, in the good way where he just wants more and more. But they have a game tomorrow—and they can keep doing this later, whenever they want. They’re married.

“To be continued,” Alex says, his hand still around the back of Dylan’s neck.

Dylan nods. His eyes are still wide, like he’s surprised. “Okay,” he says, “yeah,” a little puff of air, and Alex leans over to turn off the light and rolls back into his arms.

He lets himself kiss Dylan’s mouth again before he falls asleep. Just a little.

***

Once they start kissing on a regular basis it’s hard to stop. Alex doesn’t want to stop: kissing Dylan is _great._ Dylan will press him against the wall of the foyer of the condo and bend in and kiss the breath from him, and Alex will lean over while they’re sitting on the couch and lick into his mouth and straddle his lap until they’re both gasping.

“This is really good,” Alex whispers to Dylan when they’ve met in the kitchen and started making out, Dylan’s mouth hungry on his.

“Mm,” Dylan says, more a moan than anything else, and backs him toward the counter and lifts him up so that their mouths can be on a level and they can just make out forever. Or at least until it’s time for dinner.

It probably shouldn’t be a surprise when things go further than that. Alex hasn’t hooked up in ages—he hasn’t really thought about it this season, actually. It would have blown their cover, and anyway, he’s been too focused on the marriage thing with Dylan. Even when he was jerking off this fall he never thought about anything specific. He used to fantasize pretty hard, or look at stuff online, but lately it’s just been this warm bright glow that makes it easy to come.

He feels that same glow every time Dylan’s mouth is on him. They come back from practice one day, and they’re going to sit on the couch and play video games, but Dylan is still scrolling through options when Alex leans over and kisses him, and they end up lying flat on the couch, Dylan pressing Alex onto the cushions. Alex is hard, of course—Dylan’s tongue is in his mouth; how could he not be hard?—and he can feel the bulge of Dylan’s cock against his leg and he’s felt that before, but this time—yeah. This time he gets his hands on Dylan’s ass and rocks his hips up against him and makes Dylan groan.

“Fuck, Alex, do you—do you wanna?” Dylan asks, which, duh.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Alex says, squeezing Dylan’s ass again, and Dylan slides up so that their cocks are rubbing against each other and that’s basically the best thing Alex has ever felt and he comes all over the inside of his pants in like one minute flat.

So that’s kind of embarrassing, but it’s a really, really good minute, and it stays really good afterward when he’s lying there with Dylan all boneless and sweaty against his side. His face is pressed against Alex’s shoulder, eyes closed and mouth slack as he catches his breath, and Alex combs his fingers through Dylan’s hair a little where it’s stuck to his forehead. Traces down over his temple, the cut of his cheekbone. Presses a palm to the shape of his cheek.

“You’re amazing,” he says, “I’m so glad I married you,” and he means it so strongly. More than he ever has before. Dylan kind of shudders against him, and Alex makes a mental note to tell him that more often. Like, Dylan probably knows, but still. Can’t hurt.

After that all bets are off. Dylan seems a tiny bit weird after the rubbing-off-together-on-the-couch thing, so Alex thinks maybe he should give it time, make sure that wasn’t too much for him, but then that night Dylan is stripping to take another shower and Alex is maybe staring a little—he didn’t get to see much on the couch; so sue him—and Dylan makes a frustrated noise and pulls him in. Then they end up making out against the bathroom counter and Alex gets to put his hand on Dylan’s cock and feel the way Dylan shakes and pants in reaction. Then Dylan tugs at his clothing and Alex strips, too, and he gets to feel what it’s like to have Dylan’s hand on his cock, which is, like, nirvana. It wipes all the thought from his mind, nothing but the slick feeling of Dylan’s hand, stroking him to completion. It’s awesome.

They shower together afterward, running their hands over each other’s bodies, slippery with soap, until they’re clean. Then they stand under the spray trading lazy kisses while the cooler shower water mingles with the heat of their mouths.

Seriously. Marriage is, like, the best thing ever.

His favorite is still when they get to go to bed together afterward. When he had girlfriends in high school or whatever he never got to do that. But he and Dylan are adults and they live together and they’re _married_ and they get to climb into the same bed every night and not have to separate at all. They don’t even do anything that night: they just got off super hard before the shower, and Dylan’s all sleepy-eyed and cuddly. Alex runs his hands over him but it’s more about, like, confirming that he’s there, just touching him, than it is about turning him on.

It’s just…it’s so good. And they’ll be able to have this night after night, because this is their _life_ and not something temporary that’s going to pass.

“I don’t know why everyone doesn’t marry their best friend,” he whispers to the top of Dylan’s head, and Dylan makes a sound and curls in tighter against him.

***

The only problem with this situation is that once they start having sex it’s impossible to stop. Which wouldn’t be a problem at all except that they have to spend so much of their day around other people.

It’s basically torture. Especially the thing where they have to strip in the locker room, and Alex has never found locker rooms hot at _all_ before but now there’s naked Dylan and naked Dylan means sex to him now. Except in the locker room, where it really should not. Alex tries not to look, but sometimes his eyes will linger on the curve of Dylan’s ass as he goes into the shower and he’ll have to turn the temperature on his own shower down, thinking really carefully about other things like whether he needs to buy new poop bags for Ralph or when was the last time he called his grandma. But then he’ll catch _Dylan_ looking at _him_ and the next five minutes are an exquisite torture until they both get out of the room and around the corner so they can start making out against the wall.

They are maybe not the best at being discreet. “My eyes!” Duncs says the first time he rounds the corner and finds them going at it.

Alex and Dylan freeze, but then Duncs is gone, and they start giggling helplessly, Alex’s forehead against Dylan’s neck. “We are definitely getting a fine for that,” Alex says.

“Well, if we’re already gonna pay…” Dylan says, and tightens the hand that’s inside Alex’s pants, and Alex gasps and forgets all about Duncs.

Tazer ends up having a talk with them. It’s very different from the talk he had with Alex in November. Tazer’s ears and neck are red the whole time, and there are a lot of words like “appropriate” and “professional” and “decorum.”

“Yeah, we’ll, uh,” Alex says. “We can definitely do that.”

Dylan nods fervently. They both look very earnest until Tazer finally goes away.

“We promised Tazer we wouldn’t,” Dylan says the next day when Alex pulls him into an equipment room.

“Okay, but I really, really want to suck you off,” Alex says. It’s true: it’s, like, all he’s been thinking about for the last half-hour of practice. Dylan’s cock hot and thick in his mouth while Dylan shudders above him.

Dylan pauses for a moment. “Okay, but we’re gonna do it against the door,” he says, voice already sounding wrecked.

It’s kind of an amazing surprise how much Alex loves touching Dylan’s cock. He’s never really thought about cocks before, not in a lot of detail, but he’s making up for it now. He guesses this makes him bisexual or whatever—and if this is what bisexuality feels like, sign him up.

Cocks are just, like, great. The way they feel in your mouth, in your hand, the way they react to being touched…sometimes in the middle of a plane ride Alex will sneak his hand over Dylan’s thigh and stroke upwards in small circles until he hits the bulge of his cock, and then he’ll feel it grow bigger under his fingers. It makes Dylan’s face do these incredible things, his eyelids fluttering like he’s trying desperately to keep them open and his mouth falling open so he can suck in air. It’s sort of a game, seeing how long they can both go before Dylan has to grab Alex’s wrist and hold his hand away, unable to take it anymore. It’s always a really, really long plane ride after that, both of them uncomfortable in their pants and counting the minutes until they can get into a hotel room and strip each other down and go at each other.

Alex has never had this much sex with anyone. He’s never _wanted_ to have this much sex with anyone. He feels like his body is on fire day and night.

It makes them careless. Alex kind of forgets they haven’t always been this way, that there was ever any kind of secret they were keeping. They’re out with the team in a bar in Calgary, buzzed on beer and the way Alex has his arm around Dylan’s waist, fingers just under his shirt and brushing at the skin, and Dylan says, “Oh, shit, that girl at the bar. Doesn’t she look just like that girl I hooked up with after the Cup?”

Alex looks over. “Oh yeah, wow,” he says, and it takes him a minute to notice that Kaner is looking at them strangely.

“Didn’t you guys win the Cup right at the end of Juniors?” he asks.

Alex isn’t sure what his point is. Then he realizes what the point is and his eyes widen: that he and Dylan should have been together by then, if they got married after a year of separation.

Dylan’s evidently realized the same problem. “Uh, we…” he says. “We…”

“It might have sort of been a threesome,” Alex says, scrunching his nose.

He can feel Dylan’s surprise through the arm he has around his waist. Kaner doesn’t notice, though: he’s totally bought it, mouth falling open. “No shit,” he says. He turns to look at the lookalike girl. “Nice.”

“Thanks,” Alex says smugly, and then presses his lips together to hide his laughter when Dylan twitches a little next to him.

It’s a few minutes before Kaner goes away and there’s no one else near enough to overhear. “A threesome, eh?” Dylan murmurs, ducking his head down so his mouth is by Alex’s ear.

“Don’t like that idea?” Alex asks.

“That’s…not exactly it,” Dylan says, and Alex can hear in the way his voice dips low just how much that is not it. He can also feel it in the grip of Dylan’s hand on his thigh, and the way Dylan shivers when Alex leans in to brush his lips against his shoulder.

They haven’t been at the bar that long, but also there’s no way they’re sitting here for another hour like this. Not if they don’t want to give everyone in the bar a show. “Hotel?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Dylan says, and they get out of there, teammates catcalling behind them.

Alex is honestly baffled at how much of their friendship they spent _not_ hooking up when this is what it feels like to press up against him and run his lips up Dylan’s neck in the elevator. Dylan gasps under the touch and jerks his hips against Alex and then thank God the elevator is at their floor.

They have each other naked on the bed in under a minute, and Alex does some of the stuff he wanted to do in the bar: runs his hands up Dylan’s bare sides and slots their legs together and kisses Dylan’s mouth, over and over. Dylan’s already hard; he’s twitching his hips to shove his cock against Alex’s thigh.

“Did you ever think,” Dylan gasps, fingers digging into Alex’s back. “Did you ever think about it? Back then?”

“About what?” Alex asks, distracted by the tendons of Dylan’s neck.

“Like, uh.” Dylan sounds like he’s already falling apart. “Like if we picked up the same girl, or something. How that would have gone.”

“No,” Alex says. “But I bet it would’ve been super hot.”

Dylan makes a sound in the back of his throat. “How would it, uh. What would have happened?”

“Mm.” Alex toys with Dylan’s nipple. They haven’t done this much, but he is _so_ up for the dirty talk. “Okay, so you would’ve picked up this girl and she’d be super into you, obviously, but she’d want, like—she wants to see you make out with another guy, so, you know, you pull me in to dance with you, ’cause I’m your bro and you’d know I have your back.”

“Mm-hm.” Dylan’s gripping Alex’s arms, eyes closed and face slack.

“Except you’re hard from making out with her, you know, so I can feel your dick against me, and it’s, like, _so_ hot.”

“Yeah?” Dylan asks desperately. “Does it get you hard?”

“Like, so fast,” Alex says. He runs his hand up Dylan’s dick, already hard and curving toward his stomach, and Dylan whines and pushes into the touch. “And you can feel my dick getting hard, and that gets you even hotter, like, hotter than you were with the girl.”

Dylan moans, mouth falling open.

“So we’re grinding together,” Alex says, “both of us getting crazy turned on, and then we start making out because she wants us to.”

Dylan’s eyelashes are dark against his skin. “And also because we can’t resist?”

“Duh,” Alex says, and kisses Dylan’s mouth, pink and panting. They get sort of lost in it, like the Alex and Dylan in Alex’s mind, grinding together in a club and two seconds from pulling each other down onto the floor and really going for it. Only—“But then she pulls us apart,” he says, taking his mouth from Dylan’s and ignoring Dylan’s noise of protest. “She wants to take us home.”

“Both of us?”

“Yeah, of course.” That’s the point of the whole story. “She wants you to fuck her, but she also wants me to fuck _you._ ”

Dylan gives a little cry of surprise, and Alex wonders for a second—but no, Dylan is into it: his hands are steel bands on Alex’s arms, and his cock is rock-hard and hitching desperately against Alex’s thigh. “Do you, uh. Do you do it?”

“’Course,” Alex says. “I’m, like, dying to get my cock in you,” and Dylan moans and goes for Alex’s mouth again.

“Do you, uh. Do you open me up?”

“Sure,” Alex says. He hasn’t really thought through the logistics of this. But: yeah, if someone’s opening Dylan up it’s gonna be him. “I have the lube, and I’m opening you up while she makes out with you—”

“No,” Dylan says. “I wanna make out with _you._ ”

“Yeah, okay.” Alex kisses him. “I’m making out with you, and she’s watching, and I’m opening you up—”

Dylan mumbles something against his neck.

“Mm?”

Dylan doesn’t raise his head. “Just fucking _do_ it,” he says, barely audible, and oh. _Oh._

“Fuck,” Alex says. “Yeah. Where’s the—”

They don’t need condoms—they both get tested all the time—and Alex finds the lube they use sometimes for jerking off. Dylan covers his face with his hands while Alex works his fingers into his ass.

Alex isn’t sure whether he should continue the story. But fuck it: “You’re so hot for it,” he says, when he’s working in the second finger. He’s never done this before, but he’s going slow, and he’s watching all the little hitches in Dylan’s breath for clues. “You look so good, like, it’s obvious how into it you are, and she’s watching and—”

“No,” Dylan says, lowering his hands. He looks like a fucking wet dream, hair a mess and cheeks flushed red. His eyes are open, the lashes spiked and wet. “You. Just you.”

“Okay,” Alex says. Something warm is bubbling up in his chest. “Yeah. Just me. I’m opening you up. You look so good.”

“Yeah,” Dylan moans, and they fumble kisses on each other’s mouths while Alex works him open. It’s amazing to feel how Dylan reacts to the movements of Alex’s fingers: like when Alex jerks him off but more so, everything magnified when Alex is deep inside him like this.

Alex finds his prostate by accident and presses on it and feels Dylan gasp and jerk against him. Yeah. This…was a really good idea.

They’re both panting and shaky by the time Alex lines himself up to push inside. “Is it gonna work?” Alex says, not even sure what he’s saying; he’s _so_ hard and he wants to be in Dylan _so bad_ but it seems impossible that his cock will fit—

“Can. Come on,” Dylan says, and Alex pushes in slowly, feeling the word fracture and spin around him.

Dylan’s body takes him in, not just once but again and again, each thrust pushing all the air up out of Alex’s lungs and making him cry out. Dylan is flushed and straining with him, and Alex hopes—Alex hopes it’s good, because he doesn’t know how to—

“Yeah, _yeah,_ ” Dylan says, rolling his hips, and Alex is biting down on his own lip so hard he’s going to break the skin and Dylan gasps and his face contorts and then he’s shooting up his own chest and clenching and _oh fuck._

Alex gathers Dylan against him in the aftermath, rubbing his thumb sleepily through the streaks of come. Dylan has his hands in Alex’s hair, his forehead pressed against Alex’s shoulder. “That was so,” Alex says.

“Yeah,” Dylan says, more breath than sound. “Yeah.”

***

They have so much sex after that. Alex fucks Dylan over the arm of the couch and on his stomach on the bed and Dylan rides him, fucking himself on Alex’s cock. And then Dylan fucks Alex and it’s good but it doesn’t make Dylan fall apart the way fucking him does, and that’s what Alex wants: the way Dylan shudders and tears leak from his eyes and the words coming out of his mouth stop making sense because it’s just so good.

Alex likes it when they have sex, and he also likes it when they’re too tired from games or practice or traveling and instead they curl up together and put their hands on each other’s skin and don’t do anything but feel each other breathe. They did some of that before, obviously, but it feels different now that they know each other’s bodies like this, like breaking down the physical barriers during sex carries over into the rest of their lives.

Dylan’s body is just so great. Like, all of it. “I like your hands,” Alex says to him when they’re curled up sleepily in bed one afternoon, not a game day, when they came back from a tiring practice and gave each other long slow blowjobs and now are just basking in the afterglow.

“Yeah?” Dylan asks, a little shy, ducking his head.

“Mm-hm.” Alex cups his hand around Dylan’s and traces over the nails, the cuticles, the knuckles, the little scars. He spreads Dylan’s hand out and presses his own against it: his fingers don’t reach the end of Dylan’s. “You have, like, dumb knobby knuckles, but I like them.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dylan says.

“No, I mean it.” He interlaces his fingers with Dylan’s. “I like how they feel on me. When you’re touching me.” He presses a kiss to a knuckle. “I like how they grip the sheets when I suck you off and you’re trying not to grab my hair.”

Dylan makes a noise and tightens his hand on Alex’s. “That’s dumb,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he means it.

Alex hides his grin against the back of Dylan’s hand. “You saying you don’t like anything about me?”

“Um,” Dylan says, sounding strangled. “No, I—I do.”

“Yeah?” Alex leans back a little, smirking and putting his hands behind his head so that his muscles will bulge. “Like what?”

Dylan’s eyes rake over his arms and chest, and then come back to his face, dark with pupil. “Your mouth,” he says, and Alex meets his eyes and then slides down his body again.

They don’t get a lot more rest that afternoon, but Alex is not upset about it.

They were already bad at not making out around corners at the rink, but now it’s hard to keep track of physical boundaries at all. Hard for Alex not to think of Dylan’s body as an extension of his own, especially when touching him makes Dylan smile and flush and hide his face and just generally be adorable.

Alex is sitting on his lap in the locker room one day, because there’s never enough room on the benches for everyone and their pads and shit and they’re having a conversation and it’s just more comfortable that way. “Just saying, I think if we’re ranking dogs we need, like, a thing to rank them by,” Dylan says.

“Okay, but obviously Ralph is the top of whatever list we make,” Alex says.

“I don’t know,” Dylan says, but he’s grinning. Alex’s hand is in his hair, playing with the strands. “What if we’re listing, like, dogs who are the best private detectives or something?”

“Um, Ralph is _obviously_ the best P.I.,” Alex says. “He would catch the bad guys in like two seconds flat.”

“Mm,” Dylan says, pushing back into Alex’s touch because he’s totally the cat in this relationship. “But what if he’s a police detective and his chief pulls him into his office and says, you have two days to solve the case or you’re off the force—”

“Now you’re just being dumb,” Alex says. “No one would ever want to kick Ralph off the force,” and Dylan laughs, and Alex leans in to kiss him—

“Cat! Stromer!” Stan Bowman shouts from the door. “With me, now.”

Alex and Dylan spring apart, startled. A bunch of the other guys are sort of looking at them, some of them hiding smirks. Shit. This can’t be good.

Alex and Dylan get up and follow Stan into one of the lounges. There’s already a woman sitting there, sharp, in a business suit. There’s a couch next to her, and Alex thinks, given what he and Dylan were doing when they got yelled at just now, maybe they shouldn’t sit too close together. But also he’s kind of nervous and he doesn’t want to sit too far apart, either. He settles for a few inches between them.

The woman is Julia, from the P.R. department. Alex vaguely remembers meeting her before. She’s not…well, no, she _is_ one of the more terrifying members of the staff. “We thought we should check in on the two of you,” Stan says. “It’s been a couple of months since the trade. How are you feeling about it?”

“Um,” Alex says, because it doesn’t seem like Dylan is about to say anything, “really good. I mean, Stromer’s playing really well, and it’s awesome to have him here, and yeah. It’s been great.”

Dylan nods. “Yeah,” he says more quietly. “I’m—I’m really glad to be here.”

“We appreciate that you’ve been letting us take the lead on the P.R. side of things,” Julia says. “I know it can’t have been easy hiding your relationship this year,” and was that a glint of humor in her eyes?

“Especially given your obvious—connection,” Stan says, and yeah, they’re definitely being laughed at. It’s maybe a little embarrassing, but whatever, Alex can deal. It’s not the worst thing in the world if they like each other so much that other people can tell.

“We were wondering if you wanted to go public,” Julia asks. “If so, we’re here to help with that.”

“Oh,” Alex says. He hadn’t really thought about it. It’s not like hiding the relationship has been hard so far—they don’t spend that much time around people who aren’t the team, and they aren’t _that_ bad about not holding hands places they shouldn’t. Well. They could be worse.

“It might be a wise move,” Julia says. “You won’t be the first players to be out as a couple, but it’s unusual and might get you some attention you don’t want if the story breaks on its own.”

In other words, _we want you to come out because we’re worried you’ll start making out on a street corner one day and it’ll end up on YouTube._ Which—fair.

“I guess…that might not be such a bad idea,” Alex says.

“You mean—like, soon?” Dylan asks.

He looks really squirrelly. Alex tries to catch his eye, but Dylan isn’t going for it. “Why don’t you let the two of us talk about it?” Alex asks, still looking at Dylan.

Dylan’s kind of quiet on the car ride home. Alex doesn’t bring it up until they’ve had lunch and are sitting on the couch together.

“Does it freak you out to have people know about us?” he asks, once their legs are tangled up together and they’re draped against each other.

“I mean, I dunno,” Dylan says. “Are you really okay with, like, going up in front of everyone and saying—that?”

Alex through about it a little on the drive home: pictured standing in front of reporters and holding Dylan’s hand and telling everyone that they’re married. “Yeah. I think so. It would feel—I don’t know, I think it might be good, you know? And it’s not like they won’t find out someday either way.”

“I guess,” Dylan says, but he still looks uncomfortable.

“We don’t have to do anything about it now if you don’t want to,” Alex says, and Dylan looks relieved. He leans in to kiss Alex, and then he says, “Fuck me?” and Alex opens him up right there on the couch and fucks him until they both forget everything except how to feel good together.

***

They tell Julia and Stan that they want to wait and think about it some more. Alex isn’t quite sure of Dylan’s reasoning, but hey, if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to. Alex doesn’t bring it up again, and neither does Dylan, and they keep on making out and having amazing sex and playing some really fucking good hockey. Alex was completely right about Dylan needing to get out of Arizona: he’s a completely different player than he was there, and maybe the team isn’t going to get to playoffs this year, but it’s a completely different team than it was in September or even early December. Alex has no doubt they’re headed for good things.

Except that Dylan is being kind of weird.

It’s nothing huge. There are just a few moments, as the first couple weeks of February pass, where Alex catches sight of Dylan when Dylan doesn’t think anyone’s looking at him and he seems—Alex doesn’t even know. His face looks like his voice sounded in Arizona, when he couldn’t make anything work, or later when they were waiting for the trade and didn’t know how long it would be. But the trade happened, and Dylan is here now, and Alex doesn’t know what’s bothering him.

He doesn’t think he’s the problem. Dylan still reaches out for him, pushes into his touch, curls around him every chance he has. Valentine’s Day comes while they’re at home, and neither of them scores against the Devils that night but they still win and they go home and fuck really slowly for like an hour and a half, Alex taking Dylan right up to the edge and backing off like five times until Dylan’s face is wet with tears and they’re both babbling nonsense words and losing their minds. That’s…a really good night.

There are lots of nights like that. Dylan doesn’t seem like he has a problem on those nights. But Alex can’t shake the idea that there’s something there. Every time he thinks he’s wrong it’ll hit him again, a glimpse of Dylan with his face fallen, something not right.

He tries asking Dylan what’s wrong, but Dylan insists there isn’t anything.

“Are you sure?” Alex asks one time, when they’re lying in bed one night, still tingling from the orgasms they just had, and maybe this isn’t the best time but it’s when it always bugs Alex the most that maybe there’s something bothering Dylan that he doesn’t feel like he can share. They’re married; they’re sharing a life together; Dylan’s problems should be Alex’s problems.

“What would even be wrong?” Dylan asks, and Alex kind of agrees, but also, it feels like something _is_.

He decides that maybe the way to deal with it is just to do some nice shit for Dylan. He sets aside a night for them to watch a bunch of _Letterkenny_ , this weird Canadian TV show Alex totally doesn’t get but Dylan loves, and Alex plays with his hair in the way that always makes Dylan melt against him.

“Thanks,” Dylan says at the end of the night, when he’s still slumped and sleepy against Alex. “I mean, you don’t even like that show.”

“No, but you do,” Alex says, and Dylan hides his face in Alex’s shoulder and Alex kisses his hair.

Alex knows he can sometimes get a little annoyed when Dylan takes a while to get ready to get ready for the rink, so he figures he could cut back on that, too. Like, that has to be a good thing in general, right? He’s lucky enough to live with Dylan; he can deal with maybe being less early than he wants to be for practice.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dylan says one morning when he finally gets into the car, even later than he usually is. “It’s just, I thought I had my shoes, and then I didn’t—”

“No worries,” Alex says, buckling his own seat belt.

Dylan gives him a narrow-eyed look. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Alex?”

“You’re worth waiting for,” Alex says.

Dylan gets this stricken look on his face, and he leans in to kiss Alex, and then…well, then they almost _are_ late. But it’s worth it.

Alex knows what Dylan likes in general. Hockey. Video games. Cuddling. Sex. A few aspects of sex in particular. But they already do a lot of that stuff. Alex wants to find something special, something out of the ordinary, so he calls Dylan’s mom.

They’ve talked a few times this year since the wedding. She’s pretty cool—she hasn’t even seemed mad that she didn’t get invited. As mothers-in-law go, he figures he’s pretty lucky.

“Is there anything Dylan really loved when he was little?” he asks. “I want to surprise him with something.”

“Hm,” she says, and hems and haws for long enough that Alex thinks she won’t be able to help. Then, “We used to go to the drug store every Saturday when the kids were little, running errands. Dylan would always get—you know those little ice cream sundae cups, the ones with the wooden spoons?”

“Those are the _best,_ ” Alex says. He knew it was the right idea to call her.

It’s tricky trying to find the sundae cups in Chicago. Like zero grocery stores have them. Alex ends up calling the company, and they point him to, of all places, a gas station a few blocks away.

Alex gets a whole bag. He hides it in the back of the freezer and wonders if he should wait to give it to Dylan—but then Dylan seems really down that night, curling up on the couch, and he pushes into it when Alex touches him but it doesn’t seem like it cheers him up that much? So if ever Dylan needed something to pick him up, it’s now.

Dylan looks confused when he sees the bag on the counter the next morning with a ribbon on it. “But my birthday isn’t for two weeks,” he says.

“I know,” Alex says. He’s making them scrambled eggs. “I just thought maybe you could use something to cheer you up.”

“So you got me—are these Hoodsie cups?” Dylan asks. “I haven’t seen these in years.”

“Your mom said you used to like them,” Alex says.

Dylan is looking at the bag of ice cream with a weird look on his face. Alex is kind of hoping for—well, a smile, definitely. Maybe not lasting happiness because of a bag of ice cream, but happiness comes from lots of small good things, right? He’s hoping this is, like, a good way to start the morning. A fun blast from the past.

What he’s not expecting is for Dylan to stare at the ice cream, turn and walk a few steps away, and say, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Alex goes still, stops stirring the eggs. “What?” he says. Maybe Dylan doesn’t like the ice cream, but he doesn’t see how—“Wait, like, the ice cream, or—”

“No, I just—I’m sorry,” Dylan says, and walks out of the room.

Something…something has gone horribly wrong here, and Alex has no idea what it is. “No, wait.” He puts the spoon down on the counter blindly and goes after him into the hall. “What are you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dylan says.

“But—” Alex gropes for something to say. “Don’t just leave, we can—”

“Leave what?” Dylan asks, turning around to face him. “A fake marriage?”

“What?” Alex says dumbly. Dylan’s face is blotchy, and he’s breathing hard. This came out of nowhere. It doesn’t make sense. “What are you talking about? It’s not a fake marriage. We’re actually married. Why would you—”

“I’m in love with you,” Dylan says, then bolts into the living room.

Alex stares at the spot where he was standing, blinking. Then he goes into the living room.

Dylan is on the couch, crawling into the cushions like he wants to hide there. He’s completely ridiculous, and Alex wants to wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him for hours, and maybe Dylan doesn’t know that? Somehow? Or maybe he doesn’t know what it means. Maybe Alex has fucked this up big time.

If he has, then maybe he can fix it. “Hey,” he says, sitting down on the couch and putting a hand on Dylan’s back.

Dylan flinches away. “Don’t,” he says, pressing his face into the join where the back of the couch meets the cushions.

“Okay, but—stop hiding, you idiot,” Alex says.

“I’m not hiding, I’m just—”

“I love you, too,” Alex says. “Obviously.”

Dylan whips his head around so fast it’s got to strain something. “You—what—” he says.

“I love you,” Alex says. “Of course I love you. I’m— _in_ love with you.”

“But—” Dylan is still blinking up at him, and Alex did that, somehow. Alex made him feel like he didn’t love him.

“You absolute moron,” he says, sliding his hand up to cup Dylan’s face. “How could you think I didn’t love you?”

“You never—you never _said_ ,” Dylan says, and Alex isn’t sure who’s at fault here but he still wants to go back in time and beat himself up for ever putting this look on Dylan’s face.

He can’t do that, so instead he climbs onto the couch and lies down next to Dylan. Dylan opens his arms to him right away and buries his face in Alex’s throat.

“I guess I never really—thought about it in words?” Alex presses his face against the top of Dylan’s head. “But I do. I love you. I love you so much,” he whispers, and Dylan shudders against him.

They hold onto each other for long minutes like that, Dylan breathing hard, until Dylan finally lifts his face. It’s wet, and Alex slides down and kisses the tears off his cheeks and kisses his mouth.

“I thought you just married me to get me out of Arizona,” Dylan says.

“That was like a million years ago,” Alex says. So much has changed since then. Though even then—he remembers feeling, on the day they got married, that Dylan was his forever, and how happy that made him.

It didn’t occur to him to wonder whether Dylan was with him on everything changing after that, on the way it became more and more and more until it was everything. It just felt obvious. But maybe Dylan needed to hear it.

“I want us to be married for real,” he says to Dylan now. “Can we be married for real?”

Dylan nods. “Yes,” he says. “Yes.” And then he laughs a little, happy, and Alex kisses him again, both of them smiling too much to do it properly.

They put the ice cream in the freezer and turn off the stove under the ruined eggs before they go to the bedroom, Alex with his hand around Dylan’s wrist and Dylan just absolutely glowing. Alex has seen him really happy over the past six months, but maybe not quite this…thoroughly. He didn’t know what he was missing.

“I can’t believe you got me Hoodsie cups,” Dylan says. “You non.”

“I was trying to do stuff to make you happy!” Alex says.

“You make me happy,” Dylan says, and maybe he should have known and maybe Alex should have told him, maybe both, but it doesn’t matter. They both know now. Alex loves him ridiculous, ludicrous amounts, and if he has to tell him every single day for the rest of their lives, that’s what he’ll do.

***

They get married for real the next summer. Alex still maintains that the first time was real, too, but this time they do it in front of both their families, and all their friends, and there are articles written about it in the newspaper. They both say “I love you” as part of the vows, and Alex whispers it again that night, just for the two of them, just so Dylan really knows.

He’s never meant it more.


End file.
